Sorrow Never Leaves
by Hopeakaarme
Summary: The War has ended. Many have been lost. In the middle of night, Severus sneaks to look at three portraits. He reflects the past in his mind everything that was, would have been, and would never be. Only at night, he could cry. Implied SLASH RLSBSS


Summary: The War has ended. Many have been lost.  
  
In the middle of night, Severus sneaks to look at three portraits. He reflects the past in his mind - everything that was, would have been, and would never be.  
  
Only at night, he could cry.  
  
Implied SLASH RL/SB/SS  
  
A/N: o.O I'm going insane, truly...  
  
Oh, well. WARNINGS: implied SLASH and MPREG RL/SB/SS. Implied DEATH, lots of. And a lot of angst.  
  
This is what I write in the middle of night... evil smirk Hey, I'm just obsessed with angst. Deal with it.   
  
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Sorrow Never Leaves  
  
It was a late night in Hogwarts.  
  
Nobody was patrolling the corridors. After Argus Filch's unfortunate death in the War, nobody had yet taken his place keeping the students where they belonged. Nobody, but ghosts - and that kept the students in their own areas and dormitories better than anything, since they weren't ghosts of ancient people anymore, but of friends, relatives, companions who'd given their lives for them. Nobody wanted to face their dead friend in the middle of night.  
  
Thus, nobody saw the lonely figure walking in the corridors.  
  
He still wore black, and black only. The dark, billowing robes hadn't changed, nor had his harsh face and greasy hair. He was still the same Severus Snape who had scared the students out of their skin, made female professors cry, and Headmaster Dumbledore keep his ware. Nothing had changed in him...  
  
Nothing, but his eyes.  
  
There was no cold glint in the coal-black orbs anymore. They were full of feelings, even warmth occasionally. He was still cold and harsh when needed to be, but he had his other side, the one he rarely showed to anyone. But when a first-year girl cried herself to sleep, when a sixth-year boy was the only one to be in his parents' funeral because all the other relatives and friends were dead, when two third-years watched their friend slowly slide away from them... There was somebody with them, somebody who held them and let them cry, although they never later remembered the face of their comforter, nor could they say if he'd been there at all.  
  
This changed man now entered the Great Hall.  
  
His heart ached as he looked around it. There were so many seats less nowadays, only half of what it had been. So many had been lost in the War, adults and children, children who'd never had the change to really live. The house badges were still there, but they somehow weren't as important anymore - they had to be strong together to survive, they had to cooperate. There were no interhouse rivalries anymore. Any day you could see a Slytherin and a Gryffindor studying together - after facing death side by side, what was the point of snapping at each other just because they had different crests in their robes?  
  
Something was on the Great Hall's walls, however, that hadn't been there before. And that was what had brought him there tonight, like it brought him there every night.  
  
There was a line of white-framed photographs on the wall. Small portraits of numerous people, a little name sign fastened on the frames. He knew he himself was there, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt, and half of the Weasley children, and many others. On a large sign above the portraits read, "They Fought for Us."  
  
Then, another, but slightly longer line of portraits went along the other wall. They were also pictures of other familiar people, this time in black frames. Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Harry Potter, Ron, George, and Bill Weasley - they were all there, along with a lot of other ones, familiar and less familiar, but all known to him.  
  
There was a sign over these pictures also. It read, "They Won for Us."  
  
He walked slowly along the line of the pictures of the dead. Whenever a face of a companion would catch his eye, he shuddered slightly, then went on making his gloomy journey.  
  
At least, he came to the portraits he'd been searching for. Three portraits, all next to each other, showing the three people most familiar to him.  
  
The only three people he'd ever completely let past his mask of hatred, anger, and loath, and showed his real character to. The only three people he'd ever truly cared for.  
  
The names of the people were engraved with minuscule letters, but he'd known the words from twenty feet away. They were burned to his heart as well as the little signs, they were throbbing in his very soul like an open wound, echoing in his mind, tearing him apart.  
  
"Remus John Lupin-Snape-Black, 1960-2000," read the first one, and the other, "Sirius Jeremy Lupin-Snape Black, 1960-2003."  
  
And the last one, the one he just wanted to take and hold and cry his eyes off over, read, "Miracle Remis Lupin-Snape-Black, 2000-2003."  
  
Nobody would have thought that it'd ever come true. He and Sirius had been the archenemies, everyone knew that. Everyone also knew that he hated Remus. And everybody knew that Remus and Sirius were in love with each other.  
  
What no one knew, however, and what those who knew would never reveal, was that once, long time ago, Severus and Remus had been lovers.  
  
It had been so easy, comforting Remus after Sirius had fallen through the Veil. Remus had accepted his love again and given his own in return, making Severus happier than he had ever been. They had truly loved each other like they'd once done, touching each other's hands in the morning, exchanging careful smiles at noon, kissing tears away in the afternoon, and sleeping next to each other thorough the night. Everything had been so nice, they'd been happy despite the War...  
  
Until Potter had reached the peak of his powers, and the sudden change in the world's magical balance had pulled the boy's godfather back from the other side of the Veil.  
  
For some time, Remus had decidated his time to healing the badly injured Animagus. Severus had jealously watched as his werewolf lover had slowly pulled the other Gryffindor's soul back to his body; healed his wounds, both physical and mental; taken his lost love back as wholeheartedly as he'd taken Severus into his life.  
  
Severus had been ready to go away, to leave Remus to Sirius. The Animagus had been more than delighted to let him go, disgusted by the mere thought of the Slytherin ever sleeping with his beloved Remus.  
  
It had turned out, however, that Remus loved them both and wasn't going to give up either one of them. So, they'd decided that if they could keep Remus only by standing each other, they would. They had apologized to each other for everything, and, slowly but surely, they'd slipped from "standing" to "civil."  
  
People had to be civil to each other to sleep in the same bed, after all.  
  
That was how the end of it had begun. They of course always had Remus lying between them, separating them from each other, but it wasn't everyone you slept naked in the same bed with. Especially if you both had an arm around the same man midst you.  
  
It was clear to Severus when his feelings towards the dark-haired Gryffindor had changed. It had been one night, just after the full moon, and Remus had slept heavily through the night. Some time after midnight, however, the Potions Master's light sleep had been disturbed by a sudden cry. He'd sat up, looked around himself, and noticed Sirius one the other side of the bed, struggling in the grip of a nightmare.  
  
At first more out of his desire to sleep in peace than to calm down the once-hated opponent, he'd carefully crept over Remus to the other side. After a lot of not-too-gentle shaking and furious whispering, Sirius had awaked. To Severus's great surprise and even horror, the Animagus had started to cry like a lost child.  
  
Severus Snape was an unfeeling man, true. He kept his mask carefully in place, only showing something of himself to Remus, although that meant that Sirius saw it, too. But then, seeing the very epitome of action and carelessness cry in the middle of night like a frightened child, had surprised him enough to make him ask what the nightmare had been about.  
  
Sirius, most probably still very much affected by the bad dream, had with a shaken voice told him about the nightmare. How he'd seen Remus and Potter being tortured, how he'd again lived the Azkaban, how he'd a thousand times again and again fell through the Veil, seeing Remus crying on the other side but unable to get to him. And Severus had listened, listened and slowly began to understand just what the Azkaban and the time spent behind the Veil had done to the former mischievous prankster. And when Sirius had stopped, having told his nightmares and most of his life story, Severus had in turn talked. He'd quietly told about his childhood, his abusive father, had in detail described everything that had led him into taking the Dark Mark. And he'd told what had came after that, all the tortures and murders he'd been forced to witness and commit, everything he himself had experienced.  
  
During that night, they'd started to understand each other better. Their motives, fears, hopes; everything was exposed during that one night. In the end, Severus had gently wiped away the last remaining tears on his former enemy's pale face. Then they'd leaned towards each other and shared their first, hesitant, but loving kiss.  
  
In the morning, they'd awaked in each other's embrace, seeing Remus at first smile at them and then kiss them both. After replying the kisses, and kissing each other again, they had decided that maybe it wasn't that bad to share a bed, after all.  
  
A year later, in June 1998, Dumbledore leading the ceremony and the whole disbelieving Order witnessing it, a Lupin, a Snape, and a Black had all become Lupin-Snape-Blacks. Their first kisses as husbands had been so warm, so loving, that not even Arabella Figg could deny their love's existence after witnessing the simple ceremony.  
  
After another year, Severus had started to do research for a very special potion the two others had requested from him. After a lot of searching recipes, testing theories, and finally really brewing the potion, he'd in the New Year's Eve 2000 been able to present the potion to his husbands. Sirius had drunk it without hesitating, and Remus had smiled, and Severus had thought that maybe the two Gryffindors' company was really rubbing in on him, since they were all truly being brave and daring at the moment.  
  
Even in the middle of war, they'd dared to hope for better. In the middle of battles and death, they'd dared to create a life.  
  
It had been rather obvious who'd carry the baby. Remus couldn't, being a werewolf. And Severus, working as a public person, was also out of the picture. That only left Sirius, who was still hiding, Pettigrew remaining uncaught. And he'd been delighted to become pregnant, to have a real meaning to his previously rather empty life. When it'd showed out that he actually was pregnant, he'd been practically glowing.  
  
Everyone had been happy for them, yet most had doubted their decision. Did they truly want to bring a baby in the middle of a war that could take their, or their child's, life on any moment of any day? Their answer had been clear and easy. Yes, they did want to do that. Since if they didn't hope for better, there would never be better, and children where the true epitomes of hope.  
  
Remus had always been the one to fuss and talk most about the future baby. He'd once thought he'd never have children of his own, and now he was going to get one. There was nothing that could have taken away his joy about the baby developing inside Sirius's temporary uterus. Even when Sirius had mood swings that scared even Dumbledore, his body reacting even worse to the extra hormones than a woman's body would have, Remus had only smiled, hugged Severus and said, "Looks like we're really going to become fathers, eh?"  
  
As soon as the gender could be told, they'd decided on naming the baby Miracle, since she truly was a miracle. A love child of three men, two of which used to hate each other, being born in the middle of war, was anything they could ask for a miracle. When they'd moved to discuss second names, Remus had just laughed and said, "Let's worry about that when the time comes."  
  
Sirius and Severus had given her Remis for second name, since Remus hadn't been there to decide about it. He'd never seen his only daughter be born, had never seen his deepest dreams come true. He'd given his life to save two first-years, and it had been in vain after all - the boys had also been dead when the help came to the place.  
  
After Remus's death, they'd somehow managed to survive. Sirius had been depressed, and mostly cried all day. Severus had maintained a strong facade, only crying in Remus's funeral. After that he'd still taught in Hogwarts, keeping the students aware of just how serious game they were all playing. He had also kept sure his only other husband remained healthy, and tried to cheer up Sirius, since the depression could harm the baby.  
  
At last, three months after the worst day of their past life, had Miracle been born. She'd been just as wonderful as they'd dreamed she would be. She'd had Severus's eyes and, thankfully, Sirius's eyes, and the whole Order had thought she was the most adorable baby in the world, even more adorable than even little Harry had been.  
  
The only thing shadowing their joy, other than the ongoing War, had been the truth that Remus would never see her. A cruel truth, one which they were reminded of every time they saw their daughter, her beautiful, golden brown locks of hair framing her delicate face. Remus was always there, with them, even though they couldn't see or hear him. They knew that, since he was there in their hearts, and in their little miracle of a daughter.  
  
They had talked a lot about Remus to Miracle. This had been very well proven as her first word hadn't been "Dad," like they'd taught her to call Sirius, nor had it been "Father," as for Severus. No, one day their previously wordless daughter sat in her pen, repeating, "Pop, Pop, Pop," again and again, clutching on a photo of her dead parent.  
  
Even Severus hadn't managed to prevent the tears coming that day.  
  
They'd planned so much for her. They'd tried to guess which house she'd be in ever since she'd shown the first signs of magic in the age of a year and a half. They'd thought about what subjects she'd be good at, what she wouldn't like, and what pranks she'd pull, being an offspring of two of the Marauders after all.  
  
They'd also mused whether the Hogwarts as a school would exist when she turned eleven.  
  
Those hadn't turned out to be useless thoughts, however. On the seventh of September, Voldemort and the Death Eaters had made the final attack. They'd looked for Sirius and Miracle specifically, wanting to make Severus suffer for bertraying them through destroying his loved ones.  
  
They'd found them after breaking into the Grimmauld Place, number twelve. Sirius had fought like a trapped rat, taking many of them with him, but there were too many. In the end they'd both died, screaming their voices hoarse in the grip of Cruciatus.  
  
He could still see Miracle's body as he'd found them after the battle. She'd lied on the floor, wrapped in Sirius's protective arms, a stream of blood coming from her ear and dying parts of her golden hair red.  
  
She would have turned three a fortnight later.  
  
It still hurt to even think about. He could remember her first smile, first giggle, first steps. All those happy moments were burned into his memory, the joy always shadowed by a bit of sorrow for Remus not being there, watching their daughter's development. He remembered her cute little dress robes, the way her honey-gold hair would curl in the ends, the way her black eyes twinkled like her father's had never done.  
  
But he couldn't get the picture of her dead, tortured corpse from his mind.  
  
After the battle, everyone had grieved. The Weasleys had cried for their three missing sons - no, four, for they'd counted Potter as their seventh son. Hermione Granger, well, she'd mourned for her whole world being torn apart: Her two best friends were dead; her own parents had been murdered for no other crime but being parents of a Muggleborn witch, her; and on top of it all her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, had been found dead as well. Everyone had mourned, for lost parents, spouses, children, friends. Nobody had been untouched by the grief.  
  
Nobody had been untouched, yet Severus managed to look like he'd been.  
  
He hadn't shed a single tear after the moment he'd found the rest of his tiny family dead through no fault of their own but just for being important to him. He'd closed it completely away from himself, staying cool and unfeeling.  
  
Some said he was cruel, that he hadn't loved his family after all. But some said that he was strong, giving them something to count on. Severus Snape wouldn't break, that they could always trust on. With that on their lead, they'd started building a new world for themselves, and for those who'd hopefully come after them.  
  
Truly he'd had to be strong. Minerva had taken over Dumbledore's duties as the new Headmistress, and Severus had been named the Deputy Headmaster. He'd led the forces rebuilding the destroyed parts of the school and Hogsmeade, working closely in cooperation with those rebuilding the Ministry building and St. Mungo's, as well as the other damaged wizarding buildings. He'd stood on his place as Minerva had cried her sorrow and frustration into his shoulder, fighting back his own tears, knowing that if he'd break down Minerva would never rise again.  
  
That was what they expected from him: To stay strong. To stay calm. He was the only thing that had stayed unaffected by the War, the only thing they could rely on to stay unaffected in the future. He'd calmly watched his remaining husband and tiny daughter being buried next to Remus's grave. He'd spoken in the huge commemoration of all the people lost for the Light in the War. He'd himself hung the pictures of his family to the row of dead, making sure that they'd end up together. In the whole time, he hadn't given away one single tear.  
  
Only at night he could come up here, look at the pictures and try and remember them. The warm glint of sun in Remus's hair, Sirius's soft laugh, Miracle's happy laugh as she saw something funny - all those came back to him here, as his fingers traced the outlines of his beloved people's faces, as his lips formed their names, never saying them aloud.  
  
Only at night, he was allowed to cry.  
  
He was crying now. He always cried on his journeys here; when nobody would see, when nobody would find out that the only remaining stone had shattered to pieces. Only when the darkness was embracing him, hiding everything but those three little pictures and himself outside the warm circle of candlelight, he could let down the mask of Severus Snape and become Severus Lupin-Snape-Black, the man he truly was.  
  
Severus hadn't attempted suicide, nor had he even seriously considered it. Not a single time. He knew that wasn't what Remus and Sirius would have wanted for him. They'd wanted him to stay strong, to fight, to build something better for tomorrow in the world they'd saved for today. They'd paid their lives to give Severus, and thousands of other people, this ruined, slowly recovering world, knowing that those staying in the world would give it a new life through their own efforts. They wanted Severus to go on, and be happy.  
  
But how could he be happy, without them on his side?  
  
The tears were flowing freely now, rolling down his cheeks and soakening his robes. Severus didn't even wonder how it was possible that he could cry so much. He had much to cry for, after all. Three lives, two cut off in an early stage, one before it could even really begin - Remus and Sirius had been young, in the wizarding measure, and Miracle, Merlin, she'd been hardly more than a baby! He also cried for unfulfilled hopes - plans that he'd never accomplish, wishes that would never come true. Houses that were never built, toys that were never bought, words that were never said. Things that were never done.  
  
What had he done? What had his lovers done, what had his little princess done to deserve such an ill fate? He couldn't help but wonder whether the whatever creature that was ruling the world, Fate, God, or whatever you called them, had a personal grudge against him. Nothing else seemed to be capable of explaining the generally miserable life he'd led thus far.  
  
Severus cried for all the what-ifs, cried for everything that just might have been. He cried and cried, not even noticing as he fell down to his knees at one point, cried until his eyes were drained, his mind clear and his heart empty of all the held grief.  
  
The Potions Master got on his slightly shaky legs, holding up the candle in his other hand. He felt strong again for a moment, like he felt every night. Again, he could be strong for the others, help them get over and go on. This all he could best do by being quiet, not saying a word or doing a thing, just being there for them all. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs - all survivors had lost much, and all needed him.  
  
"If you are up there somewhere, looking down," he whispered quietly, glancing towards the ceiling and the thousands stars reflecting in it, "I hope you aren't too disappointed on me."  
  
The candle had almost burnt out. He left the photographs, walking to the doors of the Great Hall, preparing to start his way to his cold, lonely rooms in the dungeons. The rooms where never again would a dog-basket reside in the corner, waiting for Padfoot to jump in; where never again would a book of Remus's lie forgotten on a table; where never again would a toddler's footsteps and cheerful giggles be heard, being the best music to her proud fathers' ears and hearts. The rooms where he was only awaited by a lonely, late supper and a cold, empty bed.  
  
Just as he opened the large doors to step out, he felt something on his cheek. Anybody other would have thought it was just a slight breeze, or that he'd just imagined it. He knew that it wasn't that, though.  
  
Severus Lupin-Snape-Black had experienced an angel's kiss before, after all.  
  
Three pairs of eyes watched him approvingly from the Heaven. 


End file.
